


Sonnets

by oakest



Category: Pride and Prejudice (2005)
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Fluff, fluff fluff fluffy fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:14:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24315610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oakest/pseuds/oakest
Summary: “I wonder who first discovered the power of poetry in driving away love?”
Relationships: Elizabeth Bennet/Fitzwilliam Darcy
Comments: 4
Kudos: 86





	Sonnets

Elizabeth and Darcy move as a single cohesive unit in the morning. Though he consistently wakes earlier than her, he has become a master at slipping out of their bedroom while still leaving her in peace. By the time he has taken his breakfast and is about to set off on business, she is descending the stairs for a morning walk, and there is always some playfulness to be exchanged before they take their paths for the day. They are typically reunited by lunch, and if otherwise detained, always by supper. The routine works to the advantage of them both, letting them do as they please yet perpetually being intertwined.

One morning, when Elizabeth’s cheeks are flushed red from the brisk outdoor mist, she is caught off guard spotting a folded piece of parchment on the bed as she passes it. Certain that it wasn’t there when she had left this morning, she abandons her quest to the wardrobe to pick up the letter lying there. Unfolding it and sitting on the edge of the bed, she begins to read.

A smile blooms across her face, and when that is not sufficient, she bubbles up with laughter. She covers her mouth, barely able to contain herself.

At the bottom of the page, the 15th line reads:  
_I know you to be quite critical of prose, but even you once agreed that it may increase the affections of a fine, stout love. May this confirm my desires that our love may never be a vague inclination. Yours always._

Darcy, in his carriage, some miles away by now, is smiling to himself with equal caliber.

**Author's Note:**

> I would have loved to have written my dear Lizzie an actual sonnet, but I am hardly a poet, so let us allow Darcy and Lizzie to keep it a secret between themselves.


End file.
